War of the Realms
by AngelTheSeventh
Summary: The war was sudden. One day, everything was peaceful; the next, bodies littered the ground. But strangely, there doesn't seem to be a reason for it. It was unprovoked. It shouldn't be happening. My parents shouldn't be dead. My name is Tobias Archer, and I will discover what has caused this. There has to be something. Just watch me. I will save my home.
1. Prologue

**Hey, readers. **

**I promised to write this, so here I am…yeah. **

**Anyway, this is simply the prologue of another story I decided to post on here called War of the Realms. Now, if you've read City of Caelum, said war has been mentioned once or twice. You probably want to know more about it, which is kind of the main point of this new story. Please note that I don't plan on actually starting with chapter one for quite a while. Yes, IGNORE what I said on my profile. I'm a liar. I have to develop characters/plot more before I really begin posting. This is out now because I friggin' CAN.**

**I actually don't think posting will start till summer vacation, but this is subject to change.**

**Anyway, READ ON!**

**-[l]-  
**

In the End, things are different.

No one really knows whether to consider it a realm, like the ones you and I call home, or a mere mistake. A piece of land, or many pieces of land, violently snapped off of the OverEarth and hurled into the Void. The Void, the infinite vault of nothing beyond our skies.

To travel there, you do not use the traditional rectangular portal. Not at all. No, to travel there, you must venture deep underground, and search for the stone tunnels lined with moss. Some might call it a stronghold. To others, it is the Path to Nowhere. To a few of us, it is called the End Labyrinth.

But, your quest to this strange place may be in vain. For, unlike our own three realms, the End has no oxygen atmosphere nor bedrock walls to protect it. It is just a few stony islands floating in a pale expanse of nothing. If you touch the airless Void, you will cease to exist. Humans cannot survive here. Only one thing could.

Despite what I have told you, the Void is not completely empty. Occasionally, floating in space, thousands of kilometers apart, there are tiny pieces of matter, called Void particles. They are usually still, but sometimes send themselves hurtling through the Void at high velocities. They are what make up bedrock, the indestructible stone at the bottom of the OverEarth, and what makes up the walls surrounding the Nether. Since the Void goes on forever, it is safe to say that it has both infinite matter and infinite space at the same time.

Let's go back a bit.

Millions of years ago, there was nothing. The realms had yet to come into existence. We focus on one tiny Void particle, flying through space. With a stroke of luck, it collides with another particle, and they stick. Again and again, it crashes with other particles, and larger and larger the clump becomes. Soon, it is big enough to have its own gravity. Gravity, a force not yet seen before in this infinite universe.

This mass of Void particles is enormous now, made of a new substance—bedrock. No one quite knows how, but through forces not yet understood, two particles on the inside of the clump start to grow in size. Soon they were big enough to be seen. One was humanoid, with dark hair atop his head, and glowing white eyes. The other was considerably harder to describe. It had the wings of a moa, body of a horse, legs of a chicken, head of a dragon, and the tail of a silverfish. It was entirely covered in feathers made of flames, and its eyes, like the humanoid, glowed white-hot. In the legend, it is called the Phoenix. Its counterpart was referred to as Herobrine.

The two began to fight. As they grew, there was less space inside their bedrock prison. If the other was destroyed, the survivor would have more room. Both wielded awesome power, and the fight would have truly been a magnificent sight. Their war became so intense, that the bedrock shell shattered, freeing them.

But they did not stop.

No, it continued. The Phoenix conjured cubes of fire as projectiles, firing thousands at once in an attempt to annihilate Herobrine. When they came close, Herobrine hit them away, sending them, still burning, into the far reaches of the Void. Later, they became the stars that shine at night. The Phoenix kept one firecube that she could go inside of to protect herself from Herobrine. This became the Sun. Herobrine copied her, making a cube of ice. This became the Moon.

You probably know how the rest of the story goes. I will not bore you with the details. The OverEarth and other two dimensions were formed during the battle, and when it was over, the Phoenix came out as the victor. She told Herobrine to leave her realms and never return. He obeyed for awhile, but came back one day, standing on the peak of a mountain. Furious, the Phoenix caused the entire mountain to split from the rest of the world, and sent it flying into the Void. It went so far that Herobrine could no longer find his way back. This was the birth of the End.

Herobrine himself was destroyed, but he left behind his two white eyes. From these, a new creature was created. For, there always must be a balance between darkness and light. With Herobrine gone, a new spirit of darkness formed. The EnderDragon. She was 'born' with the memories of the one that came before her, and she desired revenge. Over the course of thousands of years, she created an army, millions of the mob you may call Endermen. They were all, of course, immune to the Void, and could survive in it. She made crystals that would heal both her and the Endermen, so they would never die. She set her army to work to discover a way to travel back to the OverEarth, so that she may destroy the Phoenix. So that she may have her revenge.

And that, my friends, is where our story begins.

**-[l]-**

**Well.**

**I didn't go into that much detail with the whole battle thing, because it would give away things about my trilogy, Legend. It will be explained in that story, not so much this one. But don't worry about it; it's not too important.**

**If you'd like to read this, please follow. If you liked it that much, fave. Either way, review!**

**-Angel**


	2. When Everything Crumbles

**Sorry, I had to post this. When I publish a new story, I just CAN'T leave it and say I won't be posting. When I go to the 'manage stories' part of my account, it just sits there and begs me to write it. I am sorry. But I was given no choice. I also can't expect people to find and read this, because it just keeps being shoved farther and farther back in the archive as new stories get published/updated.**

**Ugh. Enough of my ranting. Thank you for the follows/favs; I wasn't expecting any till a few chapters in.**

**-[l]-**

Dawn was breaking. I was lying flat on my back on my bed, unable to go back to sleep, staring at the birch wood ceiling. On the wall to my right, thin filaments of orange light streamed through my window into my small, square room. That side of my house faced east, so it was usually the sun that woke me up when it rose.

Not this time.

Today, something else startled me out of sleep. A high-pitched, tortured sound. It came from the streets of the town, which were on the other side of my house. But I still heard it. The sound carried far, echoing off the building walls multiple times before fading off into the expansive plain on which the town was built.

And then, there was silence.

Eerie, heavy silence, as if the town was holding its breath. No, as if the universe was holding its breath. Each second it dragged on, more weight seemed to press in on me from all sides. As if pistons were slowly crushing me. I gripped the edges of my bed, not blinking, not breathing. Not thinking.

And then it came again.

The weight was instantly gone, and once again I could blink, breathe, and think. This time the scream was cut short, ending abruptly. That meant one thing. Its source was destroyed.

Instantly, I shot up and made a beeline for the door. Getting there, I flung the piece of wood aside and flew down the hall. With every step on the wooden floor, a creak was heard. Our house is old, and it's impossible to walk anywhere without a symphony of creaks following you wherever you go.

"Toby!" A voice called from somewhere downstairs, freezing me to the spot. It was frail and thin, coming from my mother. "Toby, go back to your room. Stay there, don't come out!"

I was stopped just before the first stair, my left hand on the wall. "Mom!" I yelled. "What's going on?" For a few minutes, I had no answer. Then, "We don't know." My dad's much stronger voice, this time. "Just stay in your room. Don't argue, Tobias."

My parents did that. My father never called me Toby, while that was all my mother called me.

I didn't say anything this time, but I stayed where I was for a few moments. What was going on? Who had screamed? My fear grew, and my pulse sped up tenfold. Slowly, I stepped backwards, my hands clenched into fists, nails digging into my palms. I turned, and slunk into my room, the door already flung wide. I closed it behind me, wishing it could lock. I turned around, back against it.

My room was five by five blocks. On the far side was the window, and next to it was my bed. Opposite of that was my double chest, full of mob drops. I went out night-hunting with my father two times a week, usually more. Also in the chest was a beat-up iron sword, so if I had to defend myself, it was there. It had also been my father who taught me to swordfight. Being part of the town guard, he was pretty good at it.

Other than those few items, my room was pretty bare. But I didn't really need anything else besides that, so it didn't matter.

I dashed over to and fell besides the chest, flinging its lid open and rummaging through it. _I need my sword, where is it?_

I tossed aside bones, arrows, sacs of gunpowder, spider eyes, string, and slimeballs. At the very bottom were a few cobble blocks, lying next to my sword in its minimized form. I don't know how it happened, but when items were placed in chests or bags, they grew smaller. Magic? No one knew.

I reached deep into the chest and grabbed the blade. Once in my hand, it grew to full size. The sword was old, chipped in a few places and a bit rusty, but it was still useable.

I ran once again to the door, and stationed myself in the corner beside it. And then, I waited. My eyes were trained on the door's handle, watching carefully for signs of movement. My ears were straining to pick up on any type of noise from outside. Downstairs was silent, but occasionally I was able to listen to hushed murmurs coming from Mom, and Dad answering in a hard, low voice.

I waited.

Time passed. The sun climbed a little higher in the dawn sky. I estimated it to be around six thirty or so by now.

I waited.

It didn't get boring. My knuckles were white as they clenched the hilt of my sword, which I held vertically in front of my face.

I had no idea what was going on. A mob attack? Couldn't be. The sun was up. So…what, then?

My parents told me to stay in my room, so obviously they knew something was going on. Something bad. I had a terrible feeling in my gut; I knew that just outside my birch plank house, things were happening. It didn't matter how quiet it was. It wasn't mobs, but we were being attacked by something.

"Mom!" I yelled, on sudden impulse. _Stupid, stupid. Keep your mouth shut!_ I squeezed my eyes closed and threw my head back against the wall, cursing myself.

"Toby, be quiet!" Almost immediately, I heard her respond. Her voice was higher than normal, tinged with fear. _Notch, what the Nether is going on._

More time passed. Every once in a while, a scream would ring out around the buildings, jump-starting my heart each time. Sometimes they were close, sometimes far away.

Not being able to take it anymore, I ran to my window. It faced away from the village, but I could see a few of the houses if I turned my head far enough. I craned my neck, but what I did see was perfectly normal. The house next to ours, belonging to some girl that sat next to me in school, was silent. No light came from its windows.

I sighed, glaring down at the windowsill. I started to walk back to my post next to the door, when something made me stop.

No, not a thing. A sound. A scream. This one came from my house, the bottom floor. It came from my mother. _My mother._

A yell from my father, a crash, and it was cut short. My mother screamed again, and this one was of anguish. _"Please! No!"_

I didn't move. I stood still. My face had no expression; it was blank.

There was a brief silence, then a foreign voice. It was deep and hollow, one I had never heard before. "Kill him."

A third time, my mother shrieked, but her voice was muffled. A thump was heard, then nothing.

Time froze. Deep down, I knew what had just happened. My knees buckled, and I slumped to the floor. _No._

Again, came my mother's voice, but this time it didn't sound like her. An unintelligible wailing carried through the walls of our house, and some yelling from the others.

"_Check the upstairs! Kill anyone you see!" _A pounding on the stairs is what shook me out of my stupor. Rage and adrenaline coursed through me, and I leapt to my feet. Was I scared? Oh, yeah.

I stood in an aggressive stance in front of my door, waiting for it to swing open. In my right hand, I wielded my old iron blade. I was breathing faster now, my fury and grief printed across my face. _Let them come. I'll tear them limb from limb._

I tensed up, clenching my sword. The pounding grew louder, closer. My fear only made me angrier, and anyone who saw me might think I was insane.

The sound of footsteps suddenly froze, right outside my door. I caught my breath, unable to wrench my gaze away from the handle. It never moved.

Instead, it swung open at the speed of sound, almost ripped from its hinges. I lunged at the figure standing behind it, not making a sound. I aimed for the neck, knowing my attacker was probably wearing armor everywhere else.

I heard the sound of tearing flesh, and a strangled yell. The man, decked in a bright purple suit of armor, crumpled to the ground, shock and terror in his eyes. I pulled my blade back, and watched with wide eyes as bright red blood poured from the wound just above his collarbone. He keeled over, one hand grabbing at his neck. His fingers were promptly stained red, and gurgling noises came from his throat as he struggled to breathe. My face mirrored the man's shock as my adrenaline died down. _There can't be that much blood…Oh, Notch._

I backed up, still watching as the crimson liquid pooled in my doorway. _Oh, Notch, I just killed a man. _Finally, he slumped over, eyes glazed, lying in his own blood. My own sword was dripping with the stuff, and I dropped it. Disgust rose in my throat like bile, and I stumbled against my opposite wall, chest heaving. I choked it down, unable to look at the heap of blood and flesh before me that was once a man. _I killed him. How…_

"_Hey, Peterson! Was there anyone up there?" _Another voice from downstairs. _They're still here; I have to get out._

Escaping this house was unthinkable. My mother was downstairs, and I didn't know if she was okay or not. I knew for a fact my father was dead… The reality of what was happening suddenly hit me, like a speeding runaway minecart.

_My father is dead. Notch help me, he's dead. What am I gonna do, he's dead. This isn't happening, he can't be gone._

I stumbled again, knees feeling weak. I supported myself against the wall, horror-stricken. "You can't stay here; you have to get out. They'll kill you," I muttered to myself, trying to calm my breathing. Slowly, it returned to normal. And slowly, my gaze rose to my window. An idea planted itself in my mind.

I could break out through it and run. The seemingly endless sea of grass stretched before me. All I had to do was sprint till I couldn't see the village anymore. But the thought of leaving the only home I had ever known was enough to make me want to just stay in my room. But I knew I couldn't do that.

"Peterson? You alright?" _Nope, no time._ I breathed in deeply and stood straight up. I had no choice; I had to leave. _I'm sorry, Mom. _I bent over and retrieved my bloodstained sword from the floor. I didn't look at it; instead I just stepped up to my window. I gripped the sword upside-down, pretending I couldn't hear the drops of blood fall from it and splatter on the floor.

"Peterson, we're coming up!"

_Now or never, _I thought. I revved up, then lunged forward, driving the old blade through the window. The sound of breaking glass was much louder than I had expected, but it didn't matter anymore. The other men were coming anyway.

With that final thrust, the rusty piece of iron in my hands shattered, just like the glass. Now there was an empty hole in my wall.

I jumped unto it, crouching in the three foot by three foot space. I dropped the hilt of my sword, the blade now gone. _I've used that sword for seven years. Half my life; now it's gone._ I shoved the thought away; it didn't matter right now.

Sticking my head farther out the empty hole, I surveyed the distance from there to the ground. Nine blocks; twenty-seven feet. The jump was potentially dangerous, but it was a risk I'd have to take.

My head whipped around at a sudden explosion of noise; behind me were three other men, dressed just like the one I killed. All were bigger than I was, wielding swords that matched the bright color of their armor. Two stared in shock at their dead comrade, while the other looked at me. Surprise and fury was in his gaze. "That kid killed Peterson, Recker!" He yelled. One of the mourning men, presumably Recker, snapped his head up to look, no, glare, at me.

"Slaughter the bastard," he growled, and faster than I thought possible, he dove for me, swinging his sword in a wide arc over his head. Too late, I had already jumped.

For a brief moment, I hung in the air. It wasn't me that moved, it was the ground that came quickly rushing up to my face. I crumpled to the dirt as we connected, hearing a crack in my left ankle. Pain lanced through me, and I grit my teeth and dug my fingers into the earth. I had jumped far enough to avoid the patch of broken glass, but Recker wasn't so fortunate. He had pursued me out the window, but failed to notice the wickedly sharp fragments that littered the ground. He yelled in pain as they pierced his hands and everything else not covered in the purple armor.

His echoing wail slammed into my ears, sending me to my feet. I leaped into a dead sprint, no direction in mind. The only thought that was going through my mind was _get away from here._

Fear blotted out the pain in my ankle, and I just kept running, barefoot, through the plain's tall grass. Recker yelled after me, but he was unable to rise to his feet to give chase. I kept going, my ankle screaming for me to stop. I ignored it, getting farther and farther away from my village with every step.

I didn't look back.

-[l]-

**Great, now I get to work on City of Caelum.**

**Yes, if you were wondering, I got the name Recker from watching my brother play Battlefield 4.**

**Review?**

**-Angel**


	3. Why

**Hey, ya'll.**

**Okay, I've decided at least one chapter a month for this. Possibly two/three sometimes, but NO MORE THAN THAT. Till summer. Then I'll post a lot more often.**

**Man, I'm going to stop making promises like that. You know I'll never keep them.**

**I'm really surprised right now; this story has five favs and four follows. That's…really awesome. Thanks, guys.**

**Well, here's January's second chapter—sadly, a relatively short one. I hope the wait was worth it. :P**

**-[l]-**

When you're running for your life, you tend not to tire as quickly as you usually would. Your legs just keep moving; your lungs keep working. Nothing seems to matter anymore; nothing except for your own survival. There's a part of you that takes over, a hidden part, one that's stronger than the rest of you. It's what was keeping me going. It was the only thing that was preventing me from collapsing to the ground.

I sprinted on, through the tall stalks of grass that blanketed the rolling hills of the plain. Large gray clouds were collecting overhead, casting a dull shadow over the terrain. It must've been a little past seven then, but it was hard to tell. The sun was struggling to shine through the thick, dark covering.

The winds were picking up; blowing into my eyes as I ran. It was cold; colder than it should've been, it only being mid-autumn. My face was burning from the gusts, my legs ached, and my ankle was in severe pain.

I didn't notice; not yet. Adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, forcing me still farther away from the village I once called home. Acinalla. That was its name. I didn't know what had happened to it. I didn't know if my mother was okay. My father was…gone, there was no arguing that fact, but everyone else? I would never know.

But I knew one thing. The bright purple armor my attackers were wearing; that was zanite. Zanite was only found in the Aether, so that was where the men had come from. They were Aetherites.

A larger hill sat a small distance away from me; getting closer with every step my bare feet took. Nestled on its slope was a small grove of birch trees, stretching their leaves high as if grabbing for the remaining streaks of light that somehow managed to break through the thickening clouds. I let myself be carried to their cover, the pain in my ankle starting to overpower my fear.

As soon as I reached the first tree, I slumped against its trunk, letting my breath leave my lungs in a huge gust. I was immediately forced to take in more oxygen; my heart was beating too fast for me to breathe any slower. I sucked in, my jaw slack, hands flat against the pale wood of the birch. My eyes were watered and bloodshot from the frigid wind, and small tears leaked from them. I didn't know if they were from grief, fear, or just because they burned. My knees then failed me, and I sunk to the coarse grass, my head down. I was completely still, save for my chest that heaved with every breath I took. I was struggling to comprehend what had just taken place.

None of the events in my entire life had done anything to prepare me for this. Almost fifteen years I'd been alive, you'd think I might be somewhat ready to deal with it. No; that was far from the truth.

My life had been mostly peaceful. I had been born in some desert village far west, but my parents moved us due to the sheer masses of mobs that spawn in that particular biome. The plains village was a small improvement; mob attacks happened only once or twice each year. My father had become a guard; my mother was a crop harvester. _Was, _I thought, flinching at the memory. _No. Is. She is a crop harvester. _

I had always begged my father to teach me to swordfight. Eventually, when I was six, he began to give me lessons. At seven, he gave me my own brand-new iron sword. The sword that was lying in pieces, back at the building that used to be my home.

_Maybe I can go back. Maybe the Aetherites are gone; maybe Father is okay. Maybe…maybe this is just a dream._

Turning my face to the darkening sky, I watched as the first raindrop escaped from the unforgiving clutches of the gray clouds. It fell, with astonishing speed, towards the ground. It landed on the left side of my face, bursting from its spherical shape as it made contact with my skin. It was cold and wet, too real to be a dream. All of this was too real to be just a figment of my own imagination. It was really happening; my father was dead, probably my mother, I was homeless, my village is or is going to be destroyed.

"Father," I whispered, still trying to ignore my ankle. I dropped my head again, closing my eyes in shock. My adrenaline was dying down, leaving my bloodstream. I felt fatigued and utterly weak, crouched beneath a birch tree. Without meaning to, I let another tear fall from my eyes. I coughed, quickly wiping it away. My hand then didn't leave my face; it stayed there, covering my eyes. The rain fell, mirroring my sorrow. It soaked my hair; the tree providing little cover from the downpour. I would've gotten up and moved to where the birch grew thicker, but I couldn't think of getting up. My ankle screamed, forcing me to turn my attention to it. I jerked my head down to it, quickly examining it through the white haze brought by the rain. Both it and my heel were swollen to an angry red, but it seemed okay besides that. No bones were poking out through the skin, and it didn't really feel broken.

Reaching out a tentative hand, I touched it. The pain swelled a tiny bit when I did so, but I could deal with it. I quickly probed my foot with my hand, gritting my teeth and squeezing my eyes shut. I came to the conclusion that it wasn't fractured or even sprained; just slightly jammed. It would heal.

I was trying hard not to think of anything but my ankle, but of course, nothing like that ever works. My thoughts drifted to how I had gotten the injury in the first place, and one thing led to another.

"Oh, Nether," I whispered, voice soft and close to breaking. I was out here, at least several miles from home, by myself, with nothing. Nothing but the soaking white t-shirt and dark shorts which I wore. I could gather supplies from the trees around me, but I was in no state to do that now.

I had lost everything. Everything I had known, it was _gone. _Just like that. The day before had been as normal as ever, and the fact that it had all changed in just a matter of a few hours blew my mind. It was a miracle I had gotten away so easily.

_But not without a price. _My heart sank at the thought, and I closed my eyes in utter disbelief.

A sudden emotion overtook me, and I was almost surprised at its appearance. It was guilt.

Guilt that I had abandoned my home. Guilt that I had abandoned my family. I had run away, like a coward. And you know what? My mother was probably alive when I left, so I abandoned her, too. Most likely she was…gone, too.

"_Why? _Why did you run?" I whispered the sentence to myself, leaning forwards and digging my nails into the waterlogged earth. It was my own fault my parents were dead. I should have _done _something. I had killed one Aetherite, but a fat lot of good that did me. I should've fought them all. Yeah, they'd have killed me, but I could've granted myself solace in the fact that I hadn't fled. In the fact that I had gone down fighting.

But it was too late for that. As a strong gale dashed over the hills, snaking between the trunks of the trees, I raised my head, looking blankly in the direction from which I had run. _Death would've been better, _I decided. My father's soul, wherever it had gone, at least I would've been with him. Same for my mother.

I came to the conclusion that they hadn't gone to the Aether. That was where their murderers had come from. The irony of that fact was enough to bring a bitter smile to my face, and I gave a small laugh. I pressed my back against my birch's trunk, staring across the plains. With that final movement, my strength gave out. I was completely weak. Mobs could spawn during storms, making me vulnerable. _Let them kill me. _I knew I was going into shock, but I couldn't have cared less. It would pass.

_That _would. But not the mental pain I felt. That would never go away.

-[l]-

**I hope that wasn't too boring.**

**I wanted to get that part out of the way in one chapter, and that's why it's so short. I try to make each chapter of my stories at least two thousand words, but this one was only a thousand and a half. S-sorry.**

**Anyways, please review. Tell me what you think of Toby and the plot so far, and what you predict. And, of course, follows and favs are forever welcome. Next chapter will probably be out this month, actually…If I decide to get off my butt and write it.**

**-Angel **


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